


Jello

by I_am_Eli



Series: My name is Alexander, and I believe we've met [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Deaf Alexander Hamilton, Foster Care, Hospitals, Reincarnation, Social Workers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:13:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_Eli/pseuds/I_am_Eli
Summary: The aftermath of Alexander's tumble.
Series: My name is Alexander, and I believe we've met [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983223
Kudos: 35





	Jello

He woke up with an aching in his chest and a tube in his arm. His clothes had disappeared in the time between his fainting spell and him waking up, replaced by a paper-thin hospital gown. His hearing aids, which were usually a loose, annoying weight on his ears, were nowhere to be found. They had disappeared along with his clothes.

Soon after he had woken up, a nurse walked in. The nurse had broad shoulders, light blue scrubs, and dark, curly brown hair shaved in a crew cut. He wore a pleasant smile as he checked Alexander’s blood pressure, listened to his heartbeat and breathing with a stethoscope. He wrote a few things down on his clipboard before leaving the room, only to be replaced immediately by two police officers, one of which held a camera, and a pretty blonde woman in dark green scrubs.

The woman said something, and Alexander stared at her. He could only hope to be able to understand what she was saying by reading her lips, but he had never been very good at that, and this woman seemed to be talking awfully fast.

The woman frowned slightly, before repeating herself. Alex rose two hands up shakily.

**_I cannot understand what you’re saying,_ ** he signed, fingers shaking.  **_I cannot read lips very well._ **

The woman’s eyes widened, before she shot an accusing look at the door. She held up a finger in his direction, in a symbol usually meant for ‘just a second’, before marching out of the room, the cops remaining, standing around awkwardly. 

The woman returned with a graying old man in cyan scrubs. His face was pale white but wrinkled as a paper bag, a broom-mustache hanging over his upper lip and a pair of coke bottle glasses perched on his rather large nose. As soon as he entered the room, the smell of mothballs flooded it.

Alex decided immediately that he did not like this man very much.

**_Hello, young man,_ ** the older fellow signed, hands almost as shaky as Alex’s, though he was probably shaky from his advanced age. 

**_Hello,_ ** Alex signed.  **_Who are you?_ **

**_I’m a translator. Well, not really, but I know so many languages and forms of sign language I might as well be one. I’m really a neurosurgeon,_ ** the old man said. Alexander feared for the man’s patients if his hands shook that much during surgery.

**_Why am I here?_ ** Alex demanded. He could feel his anxiety clawing its way up his throat, and the machine next to him was betraying that fact spectacularly. 

**_You fainted while you were working. Your foster father called an ambulance for you,_ ** the old man said. 

**_Who are those men?_ **

**_They’re just here to ask you a few questions, maybe take a few pictures if they deem it necessary,_ ** the old man signed, not seeming at all perturbed by the boy’s abruptness.  **_If that’s alright with you, of course?_ **

Alexander stalled for a second, before nodding hesitantly. The old man gestured towards the police officers, and one of them stepped forward, holding a pad of paper and a pencil. The other one wielded the camera. 

The police officer asked something, and the old man translated it for Alex.

**_How long were you in Gabriel Patterson’s care?_ ** He asked.

**_A few months,_ ** Alex signed back. The old man translated again, and the cop wrote it down on his pad of paper.

**_Has Patterson been treating you well?_ **

**_Well enough,_ ** Alex answered. 

**_Has he been feeding you well?_ **

Alex wasn’t sure how to answer that. He shrugged. 

**_What are your living conditions at the house?_ ** The old man asked.

**_Alright. I sleep on the futon in the living room, most of the time. It’s comfy,_ ** Alex answered honestly. What was the point of lying, anyway? After his little fall, Gabe wasn’t going to want him back anyway…

**_Have you been going to school?_ ** The man asked.

**_Gabe’s home-schooled me most of the year,_ ** Alex answered.

**_What do you learn?_ **

**_We work in the scrap yard. I don’t really learn anything_ ** , Alex signed. His hands still ached from stiff fingers, blistered palms and shallow scratches. The doctor looked alarmed, before a sad look crossed his wrinkled face. 

**_You never went to school? He never taught you anything?_ ** The doctor asked. Alex shook his head. 

The doctor asked a few more questions, before standing, clapping his hands together. 

**_Just one more thing before we leave you alone,_ ** the old man promised.  **_The police officers need to take a few pictures of you. To check for injuries._ **

Alex nodded, sitting up in bed slowly before pulling his gown over his head and standing on shaky legs in the middle of the room, arms extended out from his body. He’d been through this procedure before.

There were no injuries on his body, at least none inflicted by Gabe. Most of the scratches or bruises had come about from working in the scrap yard. The only outward sign that Gabe wasn’t really taking care of him was how skinny he was - apparently Gabe hadn’t been feeding him all that well. 

Once the blinding flashes of light had ceased, he stepped back into his hospital gown before collapsing back onto his bed. The older doctor bid a hasty farewell, and the cops left with him, leaving Alexander all on his own.

He burrowed under the thin, scratchy sheets, awaiting his fate.

Fate came to meet him the next morning, in the form of orange jello that tasted like bleach smelled and ‘chicken’. All Alex consumed was the juice that accompanied the food. It seemed to be the least toxic out of all his options. 

His social worker walked in a moment later. 

His social worker was a mousy, thirty-something with hair the colour of dirt and teeth the colour of butter. He was skinny, but not lean skinny - he didn’t look like he was a runner, but more like if he tried to run he would keel over. He was wearing a collared shirt with a mustard stain on the lapel and wrinkled slacks. His name was Sam Flint. Alex hated him.

“Kicked out of another home, Alejandro?” Flint asked, taking a seat on the rolly chair meant for doctors. He balanced his file on his knee. “What was it this time? A fight? Steal something?” Alexander shrugged, before signing:

**_Wasn’t my fault this time, Flint._ **

“Uh huh. I’m sure,” the man said, looking up from his files before speaking to him. Alex may hate Flint, but at least the man knew sign language and always spoke clearly and slowly so Alex could read his lips. “You’re causing a lot of trouble for me right now, Alejandro.” Alex nodded.

**_Am I being sent to a group home?_ **

“Not… yet,” Sam said. “Well. Maybe. It’s your choice, really.” Alex blinked. Stared at Flint. Blinked again.

**_I get to choose?_ **

“Yep,” Flint said. “It’s either the group home in Manhattan - you know the one -” Alex winced. He did indeed know the group home Flint was referring to. “Or. A special house.” Alex raised an eyebrow. 

**_What do you mean, ‘special house’?_ **

“I mean, these people are qualified to take care of kids like you,” Flint said. “You know, cripples and stuff. They’ve been doing it for a decade now. Both of them are lawyers, but they have degrees in psychology. They can read braille, and they know sign language, and all of the kids they’ve taken in have done pretty good.” He stopped for a moment, staring at Alex. “No offence, kid, but if you turn this down, you’re a damn fool.”

**_There’s a catch,_ ** Alex signed.  **_What aren’t you telling me?_ **

Flint sighed.

“Look,” Flint said. “I know you said you wanted to stay in New York-”

**_No deal,_ ** Alex signed.  **_I’m staying in New York._ **

“Kid, I don’t think you realize what an opportunity like this is,” Flint said. “This house could set you for life. These people have taken some of the most difficult cases I’ve ever seen and every single one of them has left the house with either a successful job or a path toward higher education.”

**_I have to stay in New York,_ ** Alex insisted.  **_My future is in New York._ **

“There are good schools in the area of the house,” Flint said. “And if you’re really set on going to college in New York, you can just move up here once you graduate.” Alex stared at Flint for a moment.

**_I don’t know,_ ** Alex finally signed.  **_Where is it that we’re going?_ **

“Virginia.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comment!


End file.
